


Where the Language Begins

by marblepages



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Touch Starved Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-05 16:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18832570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marblepages/pseuds/marblepages
Summary: You cup his face and hold his eyes. “How do you want to fuck me?”Loki’s mouth falls open and his eyes roll.“Slow,” he tells you, his hips grind back and forth. “I want you to beg for it.” He touches his forehead to yours. “I want you spread open so I can fuck you deep.”(Or an exploration of intimate moments between Loki and you)





	1. One

_...Someone is here _

_ to see you _

_ again. _

 

_ Someone has come a long way with their arms _

_ out in front of them _

_          Like a child _

_ walking down a hallway _

_ at night _

 

_ Make room for them-- _

_ They’re very tired _

 

_ I wish I could look down past the burning _

_ Chandelier inside me _

 

_ Where the language begins _

_ to end _

_ and _

 

_ down. _

 

“Nervous System” Michael Dickman

* * *

 

 

You reach behind Loki and fumble for the doorknob. He takes this opportunity to spin you around and press you to the wall. One hand cupping the back of your head, the other trails a line down your spine. Loki kisses along you jaw. You duck you face away to tuck it against his neck, sucking there.

Loki gasps, smiles, and lifts an eyebrow. He hums as he lets his tongue trail across the hollow of your throat. You are caught between laughing or letting your head fall back. You want to expose your throat and remove your clothes, giving Loki access to all the skin he wants.

Still keeping his lips to your neck, Loki reaches over and grasps the doorknob. He twists and pushes in. He grabs you and you tumble inside. He’s laughing, stumbling, holding tight to your waist. He keeps you from falling.

  
Happiness is just one drop of the ocean in your chest. He’s here with you. Relief cuts through you so quick you forget to breathe. And he wants you. Desire and lust so heavy all you can think of are the parts where your bodies touch.    
  


You walk the both of you over to the couch. Loki’s hands stay on your waist, smoothing up to your ribs then back down. You sit and Loki follows you down. He leans over you, straddling your lap, and moves his long fingers to the hem of your shirt. You feel loose and undone. You watch him as he slips his palm under your shirt, and his cold skin meets yours. Your mouth falls open and he grins. You know he’ll take you tonight. Loki shifts farther up your thighs and drives his hands upwards, past your stomach, up to your breasts.    
  


Loki kisses your forehead. His hands leave your body to grip the back of the couch, and he grinds his hips forward. You finally feel the pressure of his cock against your body. You shudder and sink into the cushion, trapped beneath his body and between his arms.    
  
Loki takes your earlobe between his teeth. Slow down. He bites, and tugs, and licks. You moan. Slow down, you think again. You have all the time in the world. He circles his hips, bites harder. Stop him now before you forget how to speak.

  
“Loki,” you gasp. He hums deep in his chest and grinds his hips again. Your mind blanks. “Loki.”

You put your palm against his chest and push him back. He leans away from you and the sight steals your breath. His lips are swollen, parted. Pink flushes his cheeks, and he looks upon you with hooded eyes. His black hair is tangled from your fingers. You stare at him so long, he starts to lean in for another kiss.

  
You stop him right before his lips touch your own. It takes all of your strength to say, “I want to take things slow.”

You expect him to laugh or to crash his mouth against yours. Instead, he whispers, “Whatever you need, darling.”   
  
“Is that alright?”

“Can I still kiss you?” He asks.

You nod. “Please.”   
  
“Is that okay with you?”   
  
He kisses your forehead, each eyelid, your nose. He hovers over your mouth until he gently presses down. He kisses you until everything stills. Your head settles against the cushion, and you are swept away an overwhelming desire to kiss him. So you do. Then you pull away before you can get heated up again.

You stand and turn to him, extending your hand. “Let’s go to bed.”

He takes your palm and rises, following you into the bedroom. Everything feels surreal. As you walk through the hallway, Loki can’t stop touching you with soft, gentle caresses. There’s a sense of disbelief beneath his fingertips as though he can’t believe he has you. Before you enter the room, you turn and gently pin him to the wall.

“Loki?”

“Yes?”

“I love you. I just--I want you to know that.”   
  
He cups your face.

“I know,” he tells you.

  
You take his hand from your face and hold it, leading him into the bedroom. You never have to be apart. You can hold him with the comfort of waking up beside him. He feels warm beside you, and nothing has ever felt so certain.   



	2. Two

Morning comes and Loki finds you in his arms. Sunlight warms the bedroom. Awareness curls around his body and sends warmth into his chest. You’re curled up together on the top of the bed. Still dressed, the covers rumpled around you. Loki’s stretched out on his back and you pressed against him. You lay on your side, head cushioned on your pillow. A feeling unfurls in his stomach at the sight of you. Relief? Astonishment? Possessiveness? He wants to make sure you aren’t an illusion of his own creation.    
  
You shift and Loki closes his eyes. Your head rolls across the cushion, and Loki can hear your quiet hum as you awaken. Your hand curls around Loki’s ribs. He slides towards you, pretending to sleep. You rise up and press your nose in his hair. Then you slip your thigh over his and smile.   
  


Your breath feels warm against his neck and part of Loki is stunned that you’re here. It’s so unexpected that he wants to stay beneath you and see what will transpire. Another part of him, the part that's filled with past trauma, whispers that he doesn’t deserve this. Before his thoughts can consume him, you kiss the corner of his mouth.    
  
Loki turns his head towards you. Joy sweeps over him, sharp and unfamiliar. His eyes sweep over your face. Your eyes flutter open and you smile. He brings your head up and rests your forehead together. His stomach drops, heart clenching. Loki pulls back so he can see your eyes. You move your hand to trace fingertips down his temple to his chin. 

 

You speak, calm and sleepy, “Hey.”   
  


Loki takes your hand in his own. He holds tight to you as though you were an anchor. He breathes before responding, echoing your tone. 

 

“Hey.”  
  
The city life carries on far below the Tower, despite your slow, relaxed morning. You lay in bed for much too long, exploring each other with gentle touches. Loki can’t bring himself to move. The morning passes and Loki simply exists. He reaches over your body to grab your phone. You fumble for it, unlocking the screen to see a message from Tony. It’s a list of available real estate. There’s a one bedroom apartment available in Manhattan. Loki snorts. You drop the phone on the blankets and lean in. Your lips brush against Loki’s ear and nibble. He bites his lip to hold back a moan.   
  
He holds still until you roll away, retrieving your phone from the sheets. You rest beside Loki, slouched against the headboard. You go through the list of apartment rentals the Tony sent. Loki curls around you, watching your profile. You are so beautiful, he thinks, and he can’t shake this feeling of disbelief that you are here. So in defiance, he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your neck. You stop scrolling on your phone. 

 

“Don’t let me distract you, darling,” he says through a smile.    


He waits until you to resume scrolling before he continues his methodical kisses. You open browser after browser, exploring each apartment while he kisses the skin between your shoulder and jaw. It feels so simple to be like this, but he’s scared to look at the fragile intimacy in your eyes. You love him, he knows this, with as much passion as a Midgardian could, and it scares him how fleeting your life is. He tells himself that sometimes it’s okay to just rest. He closes his eyes and leans on you. He wants to forget himself for a while.    
  
“Loki,” your voice is rough.

 

He snuggles closer, offering input of each listing, “Too small—not enough lighting—too many floors.”   
  


You listen as patiently as you can, but then you start closing each tab one by one. Loki places his hand on your stomach, close and possessive. You weave your hand into his hair in response. In the end, three apartments are deemed to be worthy enough. You drop your phone on the bedside table and slide back down the bed.    
  
Loki grins.

 

“You should call a real estate agent before those places get taken,” he tells you. But in truth, he wants you to stay. He’s glad that you don’t listen to his suggestion, choosing to crawl up his thighs on hands and knees. 

 

“I don’t really feel like calling anybody right now,” you say. 

 

Loki feels a rush go up his spine at your coy smirk. No other human has caused him to feel like this, and the thought scares him. Your face is so close to his. Want blooms in Loki’s stomach. Then you lean forward and kiss him into the headboard. He doesn't hold back the moan that bursts from the back of his throat. Loki slides his hand up your thigh. His body feels weightless as he slurs your name down your throat. You capture him completely. You nudge his thigh wider, turning his insides to liquid.   
  


The morning has already long since passed, he reasons, what’s another few hours spent like this?   
  
  


-o-

  
The rest of Avengers Tower has carried on through the day. When you and Loki emerge from your room, the rest of the tower is empty. There’s a sense of exhilaration in it. Starving, you take Loki’s hand and lead him to the kitchen. You decide to make pasta. While the water boils, Loki fishes out grapes from the fridge. He leans his head back and bites the fruit from the stem, watching you.    
  
You drop the pasta in the water and place a lid on top of the pot. Afterwards, you spin around, back to the counter. Loki saunters towards you, plucking a grape between his fingers. He gently presses it to your lips. Your mouth opens and sucks the grape in, your tongue dancing along his fingertips. Loki’s gaze falls as soon as your eyes meet. The moment stretches, lingering in the previous moments where you kissed languidly. Suddenly now, reality rushes in. He overwhelms you, and you look at the floor. 

 

You collapsed into his soul the moment he came home to you. You’ve pressed against your inner walls of disbelief ever since. You used distance as your defenses, but now in the wake of him they are just shards around your feet. You’ve never felt so alive when you’re kissing. You want to press your hunger into him, bury it under his skin so he can feel the same as you. You sense his insecurity and you want to match it with your tenderness. 

 

You’re both broken beings, and you know the truth of it is you’d die for him.    
  
Seeing you hesitate breaks him. Loki’s stubbornness flairs and he presses you back against the granite. Hip to hip, stomachs flushed, he can feel your breath catch. He hopes that he will always have that effect on you. He runs his fingers through your hair. When he reaches your neck, he kisses your forehead. He does it again and again until you stop looking and let your eyes drift close. You can be as close as you want. He wants to smother his worries against your lips. You are too strong, stronger for him than yourself. When he needs you, you stand before him and weather any storm.    
  
The water in the pot starts to bubble over and the flames rise higher. It forces you to part and go back to the task at hand. The pair of you eat, and none of the Avengers appear. After you finish, Loki tries to think of something to do, but all he can think of is soft places: couch, bed, carpet--places where he can push himself against you and chase your pleasure. Hours of starving kisses have left him feeling undone and wanting to test your limits. You want to take things slow, but Loki doesn’t know what that means. 

 

Your hand slips from the table to his knee. Loki smiles back, and your eyes are spilling again with unfiltered emotion. It’s not all about the sex, he realizes. You want more from him than his body, and he wants his hands to tell you about the pain in his chest when he looks at you. He wants you, he slurred that in your ear this morning after sucking a bruise onto your shoulder. But what do you want? What do you want to do to him? He looks into your lust blown eyes and his cock twitches, but what happens then?    
.   
Loki understands the mechanics of sex, but its never connected to the affection that currently consumes him. He wants your touch everywhere at once. He wants to know how you would move beneath him, how you would give him pleasure. Loki feels like he’s a stranger to this world once again. You’re another piece in a puzzle that he didn’t know he was missing.    
  
Loki returned to Earth with no belongings, save for some books. It will make moving to your own place easier. You finally call the realtors. The afternoon passes in a haze and eventually the pair of you end up on the couch. You lie on your side, legs bent on Loki’s lap. His arm rests on your thigh. He has no idea what you’re watching, but he can feel your chest rising falling with each breath you take. It takes every ounce of restraint to keep his hands still. But then your fingers find themselves on your hip, and your shirt slides up revealing skin. 

 

“What happened here?” Loki asks, tracing a faint rise of a scar on your hip bone. 

 

“I don’t remember,” you say. 

 

Perhaps it’s the way you lie there in your nonchalance or that you don’t flinch away from his cold touch, but Loki’s heart breaks. He wants to hold you. He fights against reason and leans down to press a kiss to the scar. This is the first kiss that hasn’t been above the shoulders, it doesn’t matter that it’s a chaste press of lips to skin. It’s suggestive and loving, and Loki loses grip on his own control. You find yourself beneath him, knees falling open, with his body above you.   
  
He kisses you like he’s dying, until your lips swell and become sensitive. Your bodies tune into each other, and you become aroused by the friction of his thighs between your legs. You’re too hungry to quell the sounds falling from your lips. Loki thought about what might come after kissing, but he’s already got a few ideas. He holds you jaw steady and grinds his cock against your cunt, watching your eyes flutter shut. Your mouth falls open.    
  
Night settles upon the tower, and you both know that the Avengers will return soon. That doesn’t stop you. You push and pull against him like waves crashing against rocks. You are more measured in the grips of your fingers, while Loki grabs at you with a frenetic nature. He gives you desperate, little gasps. You grind against him, and he smirks, knowing that you want him just as desperately. 

You swallow until you find the strength to speak. 

 

“Loki,” you say. 

 

“Time for bed?” 

 

You laugh. “Yes.” 

 

He rolls  off of you, licking his lips. 

 

“Cold shower first,” you tell him. 

 

Loki laughs but doesn’t argue. You walk side by side up the stairs back to your room. The bed is still unmade from the morning. You turn away as he walks into the bathroom, but you catch his reflection in the mirror, stripping. Then he disappears from sight, and all you can hear is the water splashing against tile. 

 

The cold water does nothing to stop him from pining for you, but he stands beneath the stream all the same. His thoughts spiral into your day of kisses. Taking his heavy cock in hand, he comes to the thought of your mouth on his hips.    
  
  
  


-o-

 

Loki keeps track of your firsts: the first time you tangled your ankle with his beneath the dining table. The first time he kissed your cheek in passing like it was as natural as breathing. The first time you held his hand, lacing them together. Then there was the first time he found a weapon under your clothes. 

 

You’d gotten home from the store. Loki stilled for a moment to listen for Tony chastising you for not ordering the groceries, but he heard nothing other than mindless chatter from the other Avengers. You dropped the bags on the counter and began to unload them. The hem of your shirt lifted, revealing a pistol handle coming out of the top of your pants. Loki simply stared. In the Tower, there was always guns and knives or other various weapons, but you never wore them in the safety of your room. You’d been methodical about removing them as soon as you got into the Tower. Not that time.    
  
Your hand found Loki’s jaw, steading your eyes. “What is it?” 

 

You didn’t smile, but your expression was easy and calm. You held his gaze and let the silence between you speak: I am not ashamed of who I am. I’m just as dangerous as you. Please don’t forget. 

 

Loki blinked at you, waiting for the anxious tension to lessen. 

 

“If someone tries to sneak up on me,” you said, “I’m always prepared.” 

 

“And that’s your plan?” Loki asked harshly. “Shoot them?”     
  
You cut him off with a kiss. You leaned into him while easing the gun from your waistband. Gently, and with as much tenderness as you showed him, you placed it on the table. You knew where he kept his daggers, and you pulled them out from the seam of his coat. With a refreshing carelessness, you tossed them aside. And there you stood, removing weapons from each other. You kissed and moved together, getting lost until Tony came through the doorway.    
  
Loki tried to push you off, but Tony paused eyeing the two of you. 

 

He glimpsed at the pile of weapons around the room. “Jumping right to the kinky stuff then?”    
  
You and Loki exchanged glances. 

 

Tony scratched the back of his head absentmindedly. “When are you two moving out again, because I’d love for you to stay, but I’d actually not want to walk into any of that.” 

 

You said, “This Fri--”

 

“That’s right. Not soon enough. Bye!” Tony interrupted, voice light.    
  
“I’d say we were sorry,” you said.

 

“But we’re not,” Loki said.    
  
  


-o-

 

Loki had already found many ways to entangle himself with you. You rolled on the bed or melted into the couch or kissed in the kitchen. Loki found patterns in your movement. He was always on top, and even when you had him pinned and pressed he was still the one in control.    
  
That day he gave himself to you, Loki looked down on you after kissing you to pieces. Your limbs were slow to movement, and he was enraptured by the heaving of your chest. He wanted to be in your place, free from anxiety and willing to let someone else take charge. He tried letting you take over once, but got nervous and abandoned all notions. It felt too vulnerable, too nebulous. He was not used to this softness, this pleasure. To him it felt vague and much too raw.    
  
It frustrated Loki and if it wasn’t for that, he probably wouldn’t have pressed it. Despite the erratic beats of his heart, he knew his panic wasn’t connected to any logic. He had no reason to fear your love. His pain was an echo of past wounds rippling through his body. Loki manufactured a reason to get you out of New York. He whisked you off to a field in Norway overlooking the ocean. 

 

“What are we doing here?” you asked.

  
Loki said nothing, just pulled you both onto the grass. The pair of you laid on your back and stared up at the blue, cloudless sky. Loki raised one knee, leaving his lap open to you. He turned his head and looked at you as if to say: come here. You went to him instantly, crawling until your lithe body laid on top of him. You pressed your ear against his heart, and he wondered if you could hear it sputter. You didn’t look at him when you spoke, “What do you want me to do?” 

  
Loki paused. You knew that something had shifted here. You wondered what his plans were, what he wanted, and why he took you across the world to get it. He wrapped an arm around your body, again surprised at how fragile your body felt within his grasp. He stared at the sky, holding his breath. 

 

“Do what you want with me,” he said on the exhale.    
  
You rose to your elbows. For an excruciating moment, you stared at each other. Then you surged forward, moving your mouth to his throat. Your tenderness melted him, and he closed his eyes because he couldn’t watch. Your breath came hot over his chilled skin. You became simply touch. At that moment there was nothing in the world but your lips on his neck. Breathe, Loki told himself, just let you touch, explore. But it was hard to stay still, the familiar itch took over his arms, pulling you in. His hips canted up to find friction, lips on your ears. He drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. You kissed lower and lower, pulling his collar to kiss the bones there. Arousal erupted and swallowed his body, making his limbs go numb.   
  
He moaned without restraint. He felt it more than he heard it. You must have felt it too because your movements became more frantic and demanding. You lifted your head to kiss him deeply on the mouth, your tongue licking past his lips. Then your hand took his waist. He let you push him into the grass. The ecstasy consumed him, sending bursts up his inner thighs and down his arms.    
  
Your hands explored under his shirt. He broke the kiss long enough to curse. You followed the whisper of his words back to his lips, kissing him deeper and harder. All of this was new, nothing like how you kissed before. The way you chased his lips sent his head spinning.    
  
Then your palm gripped his knee with more force than he ever gave you credit for. You slid it up his thigh without loosening your grip. Loki moaned in surprise. Your hand stopped just inches from the bulge in his trousers. You held your grip and swiped your thumb back and forth across the inside of his thigh. Loki tried to breath, but your touch sent flames licking up his spine, and his mind narrowed to the pinpricks of your fingers and his aching cock. You gave him no warning when you reached up and touched the side of his cock, straining against the fabric. Loki groaned and arched against the ground. His hands ripped the grass in an attempt to anchor himself.    
  
You hovered above him, lust blown and wild. You pressed your forehead to his and teased your fingers around his waistband. Your fingers traced the zipper, and Loki was close to begging you to unzip his pants. He writhed with the pleasure until you abruptly sat up. His eyes snapped open and looked at you. Your pupils were blown, mouth open, looking predatory. Your resolve shattered and you were upon him again kissing with abandon. 

 

Loki was more turned on than he’d ever been, but the feeling of you on top of him with your hands in his pants left him feeling exposed. Loki drew in a breath. He felt panic rising, stomach dropping. 

 

“(Y/N),” 

 

Loki turned his head to the side, breaking the kiss. He couldn’t look you in the eye. 

 

“Let me sit up,” he said.   
  
That became a memory too: the first time he asked you to stop. 

 

You stopped what you were doing immediately, your hands slipping out of his pants. Loki sat up on his elbows and pulled himself up to a sitting position. He slouched, swallowed, and stared at the ground. Arousal gave way to irritation then guilt. He listened to the sound of your ragged breathing, unsure whether he could look at you. 

 

You brushed your fingers against the back of his neck, “Thank you.” 

 

Loki nearly cackled and averted his eyes to the ocean. You leaned closer and placed a soft kiss to his cheek.

 

“That was amazing,” you told him.   
  
Loki stilled. He wanted to tell you how good it felt, how he wanted to sink right back into the ground the moment his heart stopped racing. He wanted you to touch him until he couldn’t take it anymore. But there was nothing to do except wait this anxiety out.

 

“Sorry if I went too fast,” you said. “Next time--”

 

Loki shook his head. “Next time, you can do whatever you please.”    
  
You smile and it’s warmer than the fucking sun. 

 

“Okay.”    
  
  


-o-

  
You continue to blur the line between kissing and not kissing. You brush your lips against any part of Loki’s skin that comes to your reach. Loki reaches for something on a shelf, and you catch his arm. Your fingers close around his wrist and you kiss the bone there. Your eyes are on his face, and Loki realizes you’re mapping his sensitive spots. This makes his mouth part and his eyes darken. You grin into your kisses.  
  
At night, Loki finds tenderness comes more easily. His intimacy shows in the times when he can’t see your eyes or smiles, when you’re curled up in bed beside him. Loki holds onto you dearly, like you’re his world, like you’re breakable--because compared to him, you are. If he wakes before you, he listens to you breathe. Except one night, you wake before him and his eyes flutter open to the sight of you looking at him. 

 

“You look like you can’t believe your eyes.” 

 

You whisper, breathless and quiet, “Because I can’t. I can’t believe you’re here with me.” 

 

Your words strike the air from his lungs. What is this, he asks himself. Warmth? Love? He wonders if he can give you the same in return.    
  
  


  
-o-

  
You eat breakfast together as usual at the kitchen table. You stand up to clear your plates, and as you walk by, Loki reaches out to stop you. He stays in his chair as he pulls you closer, pressing his face into your stomach. You place the dishes back on the table and kneel down in front of him. You catch his face between your hands and kiss him.    
  
You’ve kissed like this before: this exciting, frantic rush of lips. You groan and urge his lips apart with your own. Loki huffs a pleased laugh, his tongue darting into your mouth. Your hands slide down his neck, past his collar bone, to his chest. Another moan and you pull back while biting his lower lip. You’re eyes meet, and you pause. Loki knows that look. You’re turning something over in your head. Tell me, he silently pleads, I want to know your thoughts. Tell me how to make you tremble. You hesitate, so Loki whispers in your ear, “You like it when I kiss you?” 

 

“Yeah,” you say, voice rough. You laugh afterwards like you didn’t know it was that easy to admit.    
  
  


-o-

Loki’s knees are splayed and you kneel between them. He’s practically melting, body relaxed, focused on your touch and his breathing. You have been picking him apart slowly. You’re getting bolder, pushing up Loki’s shirt to expose the marble white skin of his stomach. You slide down so you can kiss the muscle there. Loki jolts and gasps. You hush him and press your hand to his chest. You trail circle of kisses around his navel then lick up to his lower rib. Loki arches into your touch, spine lifting. It’s too tender--too fucking tender. Loki doesn’t know how to respond to affection laid bare. You pause and look up at him. You’ve gotten so good at sensing his anxiety lately. Without saying a word, you pull down his shirt. 

 

Loki blinks up at the ceiling, calming his heart, trying to stop the self doubt and disbelief squirming in his chest. You hum and stroke his neck with your lips. 

 

“Close your eyes,” you tell him. 

 

To your surprise, he does what he’s told. 

 

“Let me look at you,” you say. 

  
Loki breathes through parted lips.    
  
“You’re so beautiful,” you say, voice cracking with the truth of it. You tuck your arms around his chest and ease your body weight on top of him. Once he’s pinned under your body, you tuck your head into the curve of his neck and still. Loki weaves his hand into your hair and lets you sleep there.


	3. Three

You wonder how many times you can fall in love with him. Your affections surge like a renewal every morning when you wake up. It hits you when he catches your hand in his, whenever his eyes meet yours. Being in love is madness. Nothing makes sense and yet no matter the circumstance, the outcome remains kisses and laughter.  

  
You wake up to him again and again, and each time you swear you’re dreaming. You look at the way his dark hair falls loose around his neck and sweep your hand along the exposed skin of his collarbone. Loki’s eyes open at the touch. He smiles and you smile back. Happiness leaps from you the moment you lock eyes. Mouth softening, lips lifting, the expression on your face is beyond your control. 

  
And you ask yourself: how many times can I fall in love with him? And your answer: every damn day.    
  
  


-o-   
  


Your place. Yours and Loki’s. Together. The pair of you. It feels like nothing and everything you ever dreamed of. You’re on the top floor, because Loki demanded the penthouse. It’s ten times nicer than anything you’ve lived in--excluding Avenger’s Tower. You walk up the stairs together, watching the line of his calf through his trousers. Loki stops in front of the door and pulls out the key. You watch his nimble fingers  as they unlock the door. He is so beautiful. Watching him open the door into your home leaves you breathless.

 

The apartment glows from the sunlight seeping in through the windows. Loki insists on protecting the place before you move anything in. You don’t know what he means by that, but you stand back in silence and watch him cast spells around every window and the front door. You watch his fingers do their deft dance, the way his arms flex as he shifts. You have seen him cast spells before, but something about this seems too intimate for your eyes. This isn’t magic used for violence or mischief, this is something soft and tender that you know he’d rather keep it private. So you decide to leave and go shopping. 

 

You’re gone for the whole day and return to your apartment by sunset. You find Loki sitting on the windowsill nose deep in a book. You love this quietness you share between you, the ability to simply exist within each other’s spaces. You drop your bags on the floor by the entrance and walk towards him. He doesn’t look away from his book, but he holds his hand out towards you. You take it and look out the window. 

 

“We did this out of order,” you tell him. 

 

“Did what?” Loki asks you. 

 

“We became lovers before we became friends,” you say. “We moved in with each other before you told me you loved me.” 

 

Your tongue feels heavy and your mind weightless. He snaps his book shut and looks up at you. Your heart beats wildly and your anxiety heightens because you can’t read his face. 

 

You say, “Aren’t we supposed to see if it’ll work out before we move in together?”  

 

He leans up and catches your lips with his to silence you. 

 

“Why are you trying to force what we have  into some kind rigid expectation?” he asks you. “There is no correct way to do anything. Life is chaos. Love is chaos. You’ll drive yourself mad trying to make sense of any of it.” 

 

He takes your chin in his hand and gives you a steadying look. Moments like this you’re reminded that you’re mortal. Self doubt and anguish manifest in thoughts you can’t shake. You’ll die before he will. Eternity is different for each of you. Biting your lower lip, you dry your eyes and sit down beside him, enjoying this little piece of it. 

 

-o-

 

Loki takes disguises when he walks the streets of New York with you. You always see his form, but to others they see whatever meets his fancy that day. Sometimes you walk hand in hand with a child, other times a woman, occasionally an old man, one time even a dog. He says it’s for your protection. There are a lot of evil people in the world, you know this. His greatest fear is for one of them to use you to get to him. You tell him that they would be fools, and he laughs in agreement. So while he says that he disguises himself to keep you safe, you also believe that he does it because he enjoys it, and simply because he can. Sometimes you sit in Central Park for hours, and he’ll scan the people--keeping ideas for disguises in the future. 

 

He’ll play gentle tricks on people--nothing too extraordinary to get the pair of you noticed. You might walk down the street and notice a minor traffic accident, a hot dog cart collapsing, or another civilian being pestered by a flock of birds. A little chaos makes life interesting, he tells you. Sometimes you remember how he split open the sky, and caused buildings to collapse, and aliens to rain down. People died, and at the time you were so angry. But then you remember his mind was not his own, and you forgave him. You forgave him because he could not forgive himself. He holds onto the frustration of letting another being manipulate his mind, and sometimes he takes out that frustration on others. 

 

Across the street you see a businessman hurry down the sidewalk. Impossibly, his briefcase snaps open and all of his papers scatter to the wind. Beside you Loki chuckles. He’s a stylish old woman today--he saw her the previous week strutting down 5th Avenue in a leopard print coat. One of the man’s papers flies in your direction. You reach up and catch it. Dodging oncoming cars, you walk across the street and hand it to him. He looks up at you a bit startled and takes the paper with a quiet thank you. Around you people continue walking like an unstoppable current. The moment is fleeting, and soon he stands up and carries on his way. You jog back to Loki. 

 

“Why did you do that?” he asks you as you resume walking. 

 

You shrug your shoulders. “Why’d you break his suitcase?” 

 

Mimicking you, he shrugs. “Why not?” 

 

Does it bother you that sometimes he needlessly messes with people? Yes and no. You’ve never known him to be cruel, and you’ve never witnessed him harm anyone. Sometimes his tricks are like an insect buzzing in your ear, grating and annoying. But other times you realize that without him life would be a smooth, uninteresting track. You love him because he makes the world the beautiful, tragic mess that it is, and you know he loves you because you keep him sane in the chaos of his own making. 

 

-o-

 

Despite your stealth training, you sometimes fumble with your clumsiness whenever you aren’t in the field. You’ve never seen Loki stumble, or drop things, or accidentally bump into the furniture. He is constant elegance and grace even in his subtle of movements. You cut yourself making dinner one night. The vegetables were still wet, and that combined with the awkward way you tried to hold them steady caused the knife to slice right through your finger. You yelped and dropped the blade. Loki was beside you in an instant. The wound went straight through your cuticle and blood was an incessant stream down your hand. It embarrassed you because you were supposed to be adept with knives. You thought that this made you look incompetent and foolish, but Loki paid it no mind. Instead, he took your hand in his and used his magic to patch your skin together. Without a word, he lead you over to the sink and washed off the blood. 

 

It made you think what could you do for him if the roles were reversed. If he were injured, what would you do? It seems such a strange, foreign thought to imagine him hurt. He is a god, after all. Since his return to Earth and begrudging assistance with the Avengers, you’ve seen him walk through explosions, survive collapsing buildings, withstand bullets and ray guns. His body doesn’t need your protection, but inside you know that there is a tender, fractured heart that does. 

 

-o-

 

Loki eats a pomegranate. He uses a dagger to pluck the seeds from the pulp and pop them in his mouth. You have nothing better to do than watch. Time goes by, slow and lazy. This is just another moment that you will record in your mind, unashamedly peaceful. When he’s done, he places the fruit on the table and strides over to you. Your hands are on his hips before you have a chance to stop yourself. He looks down at you and shoves you by the shoulder into the couch. He watches you for a moment, eyes darting all over your face. He stares as though waiting for some cue or explanation. You simply breathe together for a few moments. 

 

Then his mouth quirks in a grin and his eyes sparkle. You take in his cheekbones, the sharp cut of his jaw. Every moment with him is like a burst of disbelief. Here you are, with his strong hands wrapped around your shoulders. How did this happen? He kneels down and kisses you. Somewhere in that movement, you sense a vulnerability. You’ve never seen him kneel in front of anybody. He kisses your mouth and you can taste the juices of the pomegranate. You let him take your mouth, hands fumbling and clasping at one another. When you break apart for air, you hold his forearms and raise him to his feet. He doesn’t have to kneel in front of anybody. Even you. 

  
  


-o-

 

Privacy is the best and worst thing that happened to you. Without Tony or Natasha or Steve or Clint coming in, there is nothing to pull you from his arms. The rest of the apartment is bare wood floors and unpacked boxes, but the bedroom is luxurious and fully furnished. You spend everyday in a sun drenched room with the man you dream about. You spend over half of each day with your eyes closed, holding him, kissing him, sleeping with your face pressed against his heart. 

 

Two weeks into your new apartment and you eat breakfast at the kitchen island. Loki pushes his plate away, and then you do the same. You find yourself in Loki’s arms, thighs sliding against each other. You kiss. His hands search under your shirt, making the familiar patterns up to your rib cage. Either his touches are gentle and his kisses hungry or vice versa. He’s never touched you with total gentleness or hunger. His cautious hands keep going until your brain registers that he’s taking off your shirt. You help him, and he hums in approval. Loki lifts you and carries you back to the bedroom. 

 

He drops you on the mattress then straddles your hips. He’s still fully clothed, but there you lie under him in nothing but your bra. He runs his finger from the hollow of your throat to between your breasts. You’re afraid that any moment now he’ll reach around and take it off. Because what happens then? What happens after sex? You fear that this will be the end of everything. But then you remember his words to not make sense of any of this, and you decide to just let yourself get lost in him.

 

He keeps drawing lines all around your torso, and then he replaces his fingers with his mouth. You bite back a moan as you feel his mouth hot and wet against your skin. Your hand grips the sheets, and in your silence, Loki fills the space with groans of his own. It doesn’t take long for you to lose your composure and forget your fears and unclasp your bra yourself. Loki pauses, breath catching. He leans back and looks at you. Your chest heaves as you sit before him as exposed and vulnerable as you’ve ever been. He blinks hard, and you can see something inside him break. 

 

Loki tackles you to the mattress and kisses you harder than he ever has. Your hand curls around the back of his neck and press him closer to you. Your breasts rub against the fabric of his shirt. He leans up to put his hands between you. He cups them gently as though he can’t believe he’s touching you. His hesitance combined with your insecurity makes you laugh. He chuckles too and finds a rhythm against you. When you feel his hips against yours and his fingers around your breast, you wonder why you ever told him to wait. You want to let him push you closer and closer to the cliff’s edge. And then like a cold jolt, you remember. 

 

You want to make this last. You want to keep him in your bed as long as you can. Gritting your teeth, you kiss him as hard as you can then push him back. Above your heads, the apartment air conditioning kicks on. Loki squeezes his eyes shut and breathes. You steady yourself, the cold air licking your skin, and then you feel exposed. You search around for your bra. You try not to look at him, but his chest heaves and he trembles with the aftershocks of your touch. His hair is tangled, eyes dark. His erection pulls his pants tight across his hips. He waits for your move. A beat of silence, and then Loki picks your bra off the floor and hands it to you. 

 

-o-

Loki asks questions. He asks about why things on Midgard are the way they are. He asks about fashion, and engineering, and video games. He asks about artists and musicians. You don’t know if it comes from a place of genuine curiosity or condescension. He doesn’t share the same affection for Earth as his brother, but then you see his face when he listens to opera or sees a classical painting and you wonder if maybe he does care. 

 

He asks you for things that you can’t say no to. You caught him in the kitchen, pushing his hands back against the granite counter. You both laugh at your playfulness, but then he pouts and tilts his head as if to say--what happened to my kiss? You can’t deny him. 

 

You find intimacy in every moment you spend together, every thought you have. You used to orbit around him, but now you’ve crashed into him full force. Your feelings for him are so visceral that it frightens you, but you throw yourself into it as carefree and fearless as he taught you. 

 

-o-

It’s easier to let Loki map you out. There are times that you wish you were a little more brave. There are things you know he wants to hear, but you are too afraid to say them. He has a particular way for saying your name that renders you weak when you hear it. He’s said it a thousand ways, until it is nothing but sound and emotion. The first time your name rasped past his lips it shot through your heart like an arrow. You think that it couldn’t have been yours, but then he does it again. You let him pant against your skin until you are the one becoming a mess on the sheets, pleading for him to say your name again and again and again. 

 

“I like it when you do that?” you say. 

 

“I need you to be more specific,” Loki says. 

 

You duck your head into the cushions to hide your blush. “The way you say my name.” 

 

Loki chuckles and then hums into the hollow of your throat. He moves over you quickly, pushing you deeper into the sheets. He holds you there with a strength that threatens to break you. Then he leans down and gasps low and rough, “(Y/N.)”

 

It’s one thing to silently trade touches, inherently know what the other needs. It’s another to ask for something and receive it so willingly. What do you do now? You lie still not knowing where to go next. If Loki can hear your thoughts, he doesn’t show it. He noses at your temple, hums, and whispers your name again. He lowers his lips right to your ear. Loki mumbles and gasps your name until your request feels so long ago that you ease back into the present. 

 

Loki’s hand curls into your hair and pulls you close to him as though he was trying to meld himself against you. He growls your name, low, raw, and savage. You whimper at the pressure. He nips at your jaw, letting his teeth graze against your skin. Loki pauses at your lips, and then his touch becomes light. Suddenly, his tongue is in your mouth. You moan and jump in his arms, but he has you pinned. You can feel is mouth quirk into a grin. He pulls your lower lip with his teeth and claims all the sounds you give him. 

 

-o-

Days and nights come and go. The pair of you easily slip into a domestic routine. Some days you eat small meals and watch television. Sometimes you makeout on the windowsill above the pinpricks of people down below. Sometimes you go out and walk around the city, and you know that deep down he thrives off the chaos that is New York City. 

 

There is so much touching between you that you wonder if it is because you’ve held off release. You consider it. You take it more seriously when his hand tremble on the back of your neck and his breathing comes hard. He never asks. He’s talkative on most occasions, but he never asks of you what you cannot give. You never really meant for this to happen. You didn’t want to be the one to pull away when touches and kisses got too serious. Taking it slow felt like a good idea whether it was selfish in its intentions or not. 

 

You think that maybe you could discuss this and make it a joint decision. You could talk about boundaries and goals. You could ask him about the time he asked you to take over, when he went liquid under your touch and couldn’t look you in the eyes. You could ask him why he pushes himself to the point where he starts to shake and asks to stop. You could ask him what he wants from you--truly wants. 

 

But the way his green eyes go dark as soon as you touch him--the way he struggles to get his breathing under control--makes you realize he doesn’t have the answers to these questions, and he doesn’t want to. You don’t want to pressure him into making sense of things that you cannot. So you carry these questions alone. It gives Loki room to say yes to anything you ask for. You wonder how this looks from Loki’s perspective. He traces the shape of you, his fingers holding their own tentative questions.  


End file.
